Like A Memory It Falls
by HermioneGrangerTwin
Summary: For Hermione, rain isn't just weather. Rain is a call to life. Slight songfic for "Kathy's Song", as performed by Eva Cassidy.
1. Prologue

Like A Memory It Falls

Prologue

A/N: Hermione's POV. Post-DH. Hermione considers how rain has touched her life. Surrounds "Kathy's Song" performed by Eva Cassidy. Idea for the format given by Wishing Only Wounds The Heart's story, "Just For This Moment". If you like the Avatar, I recommend her. Also fondly called the "Rain Stories".

A/N 2: Another story of my over-analysis tendencies. This story was supposed to be a one-shot from HBP. Then I thought about it and said to myself, "But that line reminds me of DH." And then I said, "Well, it could be a three-shot for the three verses." And it just evolved/exploded from there. You see, my mind works in odd ways. So, here you go. A nice new chapter fic to distract me from everything else I should finish. Sorry, guys. This story encompasses many one-shots I've been wanting to write. I actually have an entire page of story ideas and another entire page of lines to work around. Oh, and the entire page of songfic ideas. So this may take a while. Just like all the rest of my chaptered fics. Sorry again. Motivation helps sometimes, like reviews. (Although, other times it just makes me feel guilty.)

--

_I hear the drizzle of the rain._

As she reads in Ron's chair, silence of the empty house is broken. The sound of streaming water careening from down the roof reaches Hermione's ears. She closes her eyes and absorbs the comforting sound. _Rain._

_Like a memory it falls, soft and warm, continuing, tapping on my roof and walls._

The memories of rain in her life rush through her head, like her life flashing before her eyes. All the times rain has held a part in her life, from birth to now, come to mind, and she smiles. It's always been there. The soft rhythm was always her call, a signal of humming life.

_My mind's distracted and confused. My thoughts are many miles away. They lie with you while you're asleep, kiss you when you start the day. _

As the times it called her comes to mind, the rhythm slips away. Her thoughts travel to the one to whom the rain often called her. She lingers on Ron, away at Auror training. Seeking out the clock over the mantle, she finds it is eleven o'clock. _He'll be dead asleep by now._ She habitually finds herself thinking about him and vaguely hopes he feels her pondering him.

_And as I watch the drops of rain weave their weary paths and die, I know that I am like the rain. There, but for the grace of you, go I._

Her eyes drift to the window, where a rain drop was sliding down, racing as it joined with another. They were free-falling as one, madly speeding on the glass into oblivion. Maybe that was one reason she identified rain with Ron and herself. Falling was something she only wanted to do with him. Always with him.

--

Next chapter: First memories and silly Mummy.


	2. Memory

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter 1: Memory

A/N: Hermione, at four, talks to her Mum about rain.

_Like a memory it falls…_

Her mother had always told her she had "jinxed" the rain. It had rained the day she was born and then stopped until the day of the first of March. And it came a downpour. Hermione always thought "jinxed" was a good word. Like rain was supposed to be there and magic could only stop it. The kids in the neighborhood always whinged about rain.

"It stops us from playing outside."

"We can't do anything right inside."

"Mummy says we break things."

Hermione never thought anything of this whinging. Rain was a part of life. The only thing that puzzled her about the drought was the date.

"Why the first of March?" she first asked her mother.

Her mother shook her head and said, with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm not sure. Your father said it was just time. Spring was coming. But I'm not sure. I think somewhere, something important was happening. Something that will make a difference in your life."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That's silly, Mummy."

The elder half-smiled. "It is, isn't it? Mummy's talking nonsense."

The young girl looked out the window at the rain and a feeling erupted in the pit of her stomach. Like she'd done it before.

"You know, your first word was 'rain'. We put you in front of the window and showed you and told you that it was rain and you said it back, clear as anything."

Hermione looked back to her mum. "I did?"

"Yes. And when you heard the sound from then on, you'd look up to the window and say, 'Rain'."

Hermione smiled and thought back as far as she could. And a dark sky with the falling drops was it. Her oldest memory was of a downpour. And to her, that was perfect.

Rain was brilliant.

A/N: If you don't know what March the first is, do a Google search for "march first harry potter facts", or ask me. But if you ask me, you can't be sure if I'll make fun of you or not. You have been warned.


	3. Tapping

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter 2: Tapping

A/N: **WARNING: CONTAINS ****A WRINKLE IN TIME** **SPOILERS.** Eleven year old Hermione gets an important letter. This chapter was originally "Letters" but I changed my mind for continuation reasons. This chapter is dedicated to my Kate. Yes! MY Kate. Back off!

**Kate:** Aww, shucks, love. That makes my heart smile!

--

_Tapping on my roof and walls…_

Hermione sat on her bed, reading her latest interest, Madeleine L'Engle. As Calvin kissed Meg when danger was approaching, Hermione sighed, holding the book to her chest in happiness. As she thought about the two _finally_ kissing, she heard an unmistakable pitter-patter on the roof.

"Rain."

She went back to her novel with new resolve. Before she had finished the page, however, she heard a different sort of tapping. She looked towards her window and saw an owl pecking it. It had some sort of paper stuck in its beak. She went to it and peered out, incredulously. The owl continued to peck, while looking witheringly at her.

The bird struck her as odd: middle of the day, rain pouring, this supposedly nocturnal bird comes with a piece of paper for her, refusing to leave and gives her a look of disgust? She pondered it for a moment, finally opening the window and the bird shook its body of the water. She hastily closed the window and opened the parchment the owl carried, finding a letter on the inside:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Questions may be submitted to Filius Flitwick by owl or by Muggle post to the Leaky Cauldron in London._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione looked at the list:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_Wand _

_Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set_

_Glass or crystal phials_

_Telescope set_

_Brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

She looked up at the owl. "Magic? Cauldrons? Wands? Broomsticks? Is this a joke?" The owl remained silent. "Oh, why am I asking you? You're an owl!"

She sat down at her desk, taking in the information in the letter. Surely, the idiots at school couldn't come up with something this elaborate. Even _she_ wouldn't come up with something this elaborate. This must be from a real institution.

They thought she could do magic? When had she ever—?

She thought of the time she wanted a certain book and it was at her side, though she knew she had put it away the night before. She thought about when the girls at school made fun of her teeth and they woke up the next morning with crooked one. Her parents got the job fixing them. But that wasn't magic, was it? She must have forgotten to put the book away and those girls must have had crooked teeth all along and their parents never noticed. She wasn't magic.

…_Questions may be submitted to Filius Flitwick by owl…_

She leaned to her left and opened a drawer, pulling out a leaf of lined paper and carefully composed a letter outlining all her questions. When finished, she folded it and gave it to the owl. She wondered briefly if she even wanted to go. She wasn't sure she should.

As she opened the window for the owl to leave, she noticed the rain had stopped as quickly as it had started. The sun was coming out.

She received a letter back the next week, answering all her questions. At the end, almost as if he couldn't say it in the actual reply, there was a post-script:

_Your letter was very well-written Miss Granger, and I sincerely hope you shall join us for the next seven years. I haven't read a letter from a student like that in decades. As Head of Ravenclaw house, known for great wit, I know a good brain when I see one._

_F.F._

Hermione beamed. They wanted her. She decided to show the letters to her parents.

When she showed them, her mother grinned. "I always knew you were going to be different! I knew it!"

Her father only raised an eyebrow. He had many questions of his own, which he sent to Flitwick. When he received his response, he seemed satisfied with the answers and willed for her to go.

But by that time, her mother had a new question for her. "Do you want to go, sweet?"

The question puzzled Hermione. She wasn't sure, and she told her mother so. The only reply was: "Think long and hard about this. It will change your life."

Suddenly, Hermione was struck with a fear she couldn't voice. What if it wasn't good? What if, like here, no one liked her? She wasn't sure.

And she certainly wasn't accustomed to uncertainty.

--

For the next month, it didn't rain. Not once. The summer was scorching hot, and there was no rain.

Hermione still hadn't decided. Her father encouraged her to go. Her mother told her to do what seemed right. But neither seemed right at the moment. She didn't want to go on at school, with the other kids making fun of her and hating her. But she wasn't sure what she could do at Hogwarts. If it was exactly the same, it would break her.

She received a letter on July first, reminding her that she needed to send word of her attendance by July thirty-first.

Conflicted, she went to the back garden, and sat on one of the stone benches. Her mother waved at her from the kitchen window, smiling brightly. Hermione waved back and her mother bustled out of view. Then, a thought struck Hermione.

_I'll have to leave my parents._

She gasped and tears fled down her cheeks. She'd have to leave her mother, who'd always comforted her when things were wrong. What would happen if no one liked her there? She wouldn't be there to comfort Hermione.

At that moment, her mind was made up. She would not go to Hogwarts.

--

After another week, rain still hadn't fallen. The flowers in the back garden were wilting despite her mother's constant care. Hermione went to her mother in the back garden, bringing her a glass of cold water. She gladly took it and, together, they sat on the same bench on which Hermione had cried. Her mother looked around, as if making sure they were alone, and said, "Have you decided?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm not going."

"You were excited about it a week ago. Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't want it to be like it has been at school so far. And not have you there."

"Me?" her mum said. "Why do I make a difference?"

"You always comfort me, make things better, you know? I won't have that there."

"Hermione, you can write anytime. Tell me every minute detail if you want."

"It won't be the same." Hermione looked away.

Her mother took her chin into her hand and pulled it to look her straight in the face. "I won't be here forever. You'll have to live without me at some point."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "I know." She tried to take her chin away, but her mother held fast.

"You are strong enough. You can do it."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know if I can."

Her mother smiled. "I do."

"But…"

"I know my daughter. And you can." They looked at each other for a moment, and then Hermione nodded. "I have some cleaning to do inside. Are you coming in?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'll be in in a minute." Her mother left and Hermione pondered their talk. _Can I do it? Am I strong enough? Will I go?_ She thought about the places she had never seen, the classes, and most importantly, the people she had never met. It would be a new day. A new Hermione. She could start over.

Then, she decided again. She would go, no matter the circumstances. If they didn't like her, at least she had tried. She would know she had done everything to try.

"I'll go," she said to herself. "I'm going."

She began to feel raindrops on her shoulders. She stood up and looked to the sky, and they fell on her face. And then it down poured, falling everywhere, soaking her. And she just stood there, taking the water. Being enveloped by the rain.


	4. Hearing

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter 3: Hearing

A/N: This is second year Hermione after just waking up from a very long nap. She finds she has a _very_ unexpected visitor. This chapter is dedicated to all those who visited me when I had my tonsils taken out last year. If you've read "For Longer Than Forever", at the end of chapters eight through eleven, I described the sickness leading up to the tonsillectomy. Actually, I whined about it. Ah, well. Enjoy!

--

_I hear the drizzle of the rain…_

Hermione awoke feeling as if someone had laid a _very_ large volume on her head for weeks. Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to lift. So she merely listened as Madam Pomfrey bustled around, tending to patients. Oddly, Hermione did not hear her come to her side.

After awhile, the room was quiet and she could hear rain falling overhead. She smiled, though her outward expression didn't change. Her face wouldn't follow her will as of yet. Briefly, she panicked about her lack of movement. _I'm supposed to be well, aren't I?_ The sound of the drizzle outside calmed her, however and her distress faded away.

_Rain._

Her thoughts melted into the beat of the raindrops. Time passed, undetected by Hermione, and Madam Pomfrey came to her side, breaking her thoughts out of stasis.

"Come, Mr. Weasley. You must go to bed _sometime_."

Hermione's thoughts went wild. _Ron? What is _he_ doing _here_?_

"Just a few more minutes, Madam Pomfrey."

She sighed. "Very well."

At the sound of _his_ voice, Hermione broke out of her vegetative state. Her eyes flew opened and she moved her head to seek out his face. The face of the boy to whom she had always been drawn. Her best friend. The one she had feelings for that were more than friendly. She had never had a crush on Lockhart, as he had always insinuated. She never liked anyone other than him. _Okay, maybe I think he's handsome and accomplished, but I don't _like_ him._

"Ron."

He started. "Hermione! You're awake!" The elation was evident in his voice and she smiled.

"Have been for sometime. Couldn't seem to control myself.

He smiled. "I'm glad to see you. Awake, that is," he added quickly.

_Not as glad as I am to see you here._

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he said.

"Thanks," she said, not sure what else to say.

They were silent for a few moments. Then Ron spoke up. "Listen. I was just thinking about Halloween last year. Don't think I ever apologized properly for what I did."

"Don't w—"

"No. Listen. I didn't think about it, but I don't want us to die before I cleared the air about it. So, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've made fun of you. And I'm sorry I haven't apologized until now."

Hermione was touched. She was silent for a few moments, savoring his apology. His ears began to turn pink. "I forgave you a long time ago. It's not as if we don't have something to apologize for every other day."

Ron laughed. "Well, I think you have something to apologize to me about."

"And what's that?"

"You _ruined_ my birthday."

Hermione was confused. "When did I do that?"

"We had a test in Transfiguration the next day, and you nagged me to practice all night. Didn't even get to celebrate."

"It was a big—"

Then the night came to mind. She hadn't even thought about the date. The test date had been March second. So that meant Ron's birthday was…

Oh, God.

"Your birthday is March first?"

"Yeah. I thought I told you."

Her heart pounded. His birthday was the day the rain started. She was too shocked to speak.

…_Something that will make a difference in your life…_

"Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked, pulling her out of the memory.

She nodded. "Yes. I'm-I'm fine."

"Good. You were beginning to get this look about you like you were going to be sick."

"I guess it must be a side effect of the petrifying."

"Yeah. 'Spose so." They became silent again.

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey said. "You have to leave. Miss Granger needs her rest."

"One more minute," Hermione said. Madam Pomfrey threw her hands in the air and walked away. "I guess you found my note."

"Yes. Very clever of you to do that for us."

"Yes, well, I thought I might as well, just in case." She paused and used her inferring skills. "So you did it?"

"Yep. Harry and I are coming tomorrow to tell you the whole story, but I thought I'd come alone to apologize."

She smiled. "Thanks again, for your apology."

"I should've done it a long time ago."

"Alright. Mr. Weasley! You have to go to bed, right now! You're disturbing Miss Granger's rest."

Hermione rolled her eyes. As if she hadn't been asleep for—

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," he said, rising out of his chair. "I'll be going." She left them once again, taking a round of the Hospital Wing.

Hermione caught Ron's eye. "Bye, Ron."

"Bye. See you tomorrow."

She watched Ron leave the room slowly, as if expecting something to happen while he was leaving. She grinned.

_He's coming to see me tomorrow._

"Tomorrow?" she heard Madam Pomfrey mutter to herself. "Hasn't that boy had enough?"

Hermione giggled quietly. Her revelation about Ron's birthday came to mind.

_Hmmm. March first. I suppose he hasn't had enough just yet._

And she closed her eyes, the sound of the falling rain lulling her to sleep.


	5. Knowing

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter 4: Knowing

A/N: Ron Weasley's on a mission. For Molly Weasley. Little does he know, it's also for himself.

That was stupid. Anyway, it was shorter than I planned. Sorry. I won't promise anything.

--

Most people connect sun with fun. Hermione's version of fun was curling up in a chair with a book while rain pours outside. Or dancing in the rain, getting soaked to the bone.

That was until she met Ron. Now her version of fun was being with him, wherever he was.

Sure, she still loved reading while the rain poured and dancing in the rain. But she liked it more when Ron's there, playing chess with Harry or dancing with her. At that thought, sitting in her father's study, she smiled, imagining Ron's arms around her. _Like that'd ever happen._ Shaking the unhappy thought, she stood and announced, "I'm going for a walk."

"Alright," her father said, looking up from his record books. "Be careful."

"Don't worry. I will." She walked through the house, quietly, patting Crookshanks as she exited the house through the back door.

Walking alone often gave her time to think. Think about homework, a book she just read, the school year ahead, how Harry was doing, and, mostly, Ron. She wondered what he was doing at the Burrow at that moment. It was the first week of the holidays. She surmised he was lying in bed, though it was well past noon. Maybe Mrs. Weasley was shouting for him, waking him. Hermione laughed, imagining that Ron would grumble and curse as he rolled out of bed. He never was a riser, let alone an early one.

Although the holidays had just begun, she constantly had Ron on her mind. Though her mother swore to her she'd grow out of it, her infatuation for Ron had only grown. When her mind wasn't otherwise occupied, her thoughts drifted to Ron. She sighed. _This can't end well._

She felt a spot of cold on the top of her head. She reached up and felt a wet spot. Looking up, a raindrop fell on her cheek. She smiled as other rushed past her, trying to get to shelter. That wasn't Hermione's plan. She sauntered down the sidewalk, dancing in the shower. As she came close to her front door, she jammed wildly, waving her arms to the beat of a silent song. Then she looked to the front porch of her home. And there, she found a face she hadn't expected to see.

"Ron!" She stopped dead, one hand still in mid-wave. "What are you doing here?"

He looked amused. "Came to visit you, brighten the day. But you obviously have enough fun to keep yourself occupied."

She dropped her arm. "Oh, well. It's good to see you."

He was trying not to laugh. "It's pretty good to see you too."

She joined him on the porch. "I guess you've already seen my parents."

"Yes. They told me you were on a walk. I was about to go find you." He paused. "Is there any particular reason you were dancing in the rain?"

Hermione blushed. "I…I like the rain?"

Ron tried to look serious, but failed miserably. "I should hope so. You're covered in it."

Hermione tried to look disdainfully at him. "Oh, that's very clever."

Ron burst out laughing. "I though it was fucking hilarious myself."

"_Ron!_" she scolded, slapping him on the arm.

"Sorry…Mum."

"Oh, shut up. You're so mature." She stalked to a chair, shaking her head.

"Oh, Hermione. I know you think's it's funny."

She ignored him. "Did you come here for a specific purpose, or are you just on a mission to annoy me?"

"Actually, I am on a mission. I have a question for you and your parents." He looked at his feet, suddenly shy. "Would you like to come spend the summer at my house?"

Her heart stopped. "W—What?"

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away. "I know you miss your parents. I sh—"

"No, Ron." She shook her head. "I'd love to come to the Burrow." She considered the possibilities. She could be with him all the time. Waking him in the morning. Swimming with him in the pond by his house. He wouldn't have to worry where he was or what he was doing. She'd be there, doing it with him. An image of them kissing came to her. "If my parents would let me, I'd go tomorrow."

"Really? You'll come?"

"Yes! Of course."

"Great! We're going to the Quidditch World Cup, and Viktor Krum is playing. He's amazing, the youngest player in the league!"

Hermione nodded. She didn't really care for Viktor Krum. All she cared about was that she was staying at Ron's house. Her stomach was on fire. She would be close. She looked into his bright blue eyes and wanted nothing more than to kiss him. No. That wasn't true. What she wanted most was to sit on his lap and be his. She wanted him to be hers. And she knew at that moment, she was like the rain around them: falling madly. She was falling for Ronald Weasley.


	6. Worrying

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Five: Worrying

_There but for the grace of you go I…_

The darkness outside the Hospital Wing enveloped Hermione. She and Ron were the only ones left after their impromptu escapade into the Ministry, much to her discomfort. People visited, but they couldn't stay all night. Night was the time when she was most troubled, the time when Hermione was left to hear Ron's nightmares. She hated those sounds more than anything else in the world, hearing him in unknown distress. All she wanted to do was curl up next to him, and hold him and tell him he was fine and safe and it was going to be okay.

But he couldn't know she saw what he would undoubtedly think of as weakness. And he couldn't know that she loved him as she did. So she suffered through, acting as if she didn't know. She acted as oblivious as was believable. She was silent, despite her desperate yearning to know what was in his dreams. She had heard her name, and Harry's, many times. She supposed it could only be the war. And dreams of the war could only be nightmares. Especially when she heard him moaning as she did.

Ron was awake. She'd only put out her light a few moments ago and he had been staring out the window on the opposite wall when she had done so. She made to settle down and sleep, but she moved too quickly. A gasp escaped unbidden and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron turn his head with great speed to her aching body. "Maybe you should take another pain potion."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine."

"You didn't sound fine."

"I sat up too quickly is all. Really," said Hermione, looking at him seriously by moonlight. "I'm okay now." That was a blatant lie. Now her sides were aching, and if prior experience meant anything, it would spread soon. But it wouldn't do to need a pain potion every time she moved. She would do without.

"Stop being stubborn. I know you're not 'okay'. Just take a pain potion."

"I'm not being stubborn, Ron. I'm really—" she said, turning on her side away from him to end the futile argument and wincing. "—fine."

"Oh, come on. That wince was so obvious, I _heard_ it." She had resolved to keep her mouth shut. She wouldn't fight with him. "Oh, that's what it's gonna be? You're gonna stop talking?" She did not respond. "Fine, I'll keep talking. In fact, I'll start making a list of reasons why you—

"It's not as if I nag _you_ every time you cry out in your sleep!"

"Well, you need—" he stopped abruptly. "Wait, what?"

There was a loud silence. And thunder cracked so loudly it shook the room.

"You hear me?"

She swallowed with a little difficulty and turned over carefully to look at him. "Yes. I always wake up."

"But you—you're—"

"I pretend to be asleep so you won't be embarrassed, though it wouldn't be anything to be embarrassed about. I mean, it's not as if you can help it anymore than I can help my pain. And I don't like to do it—"

"You don't like to do what?"

She flushed. She hadn't meant to say that. "I don't like pretending I'm asleep."

"Why?"

Her flush darkened. "I like to know you're okay. I worry about you sometimes."

Ron blushed as well. "I worry about you too." He paused. "Which is why you need to take a potion."

Hermione shook her head. "You never give up, do you?" He didn't answer. "Oh, Merlin. You are not going to stop talking to me." No response. "How about a compromise? You tell me about your dreams and I'll take a potion when I'm in pain."

"Not all of my dreams. Some of them I have to keep to myself."

"And I'll reserve the right not to take a potion."

Ron sighed. It was clear he didn't like much. She hoped that he would crack and promise to tell her his dreams. "Fine," he finally replied. She wasn't quite content with their compromise either, but she took what she could get. She would do anything or go anywhere to make sure he was alright. "So are you going to take that pain potion?"

"If you tell me what your dream was about last night." He had called her name numerous times during that one. More than he usually did.

He looked at her with wide eyes. "Seriously?"

"Yes. You tell me, or I'm not taking it."

Ron sighed again. "I guess you won't be taking that potion then."

She smiled smugly at him. "I guess not."

"Damn."

"Ron!"

"Sorry," he said, not sorry in the least. "But you need that potion!"

"Here we go again," she said, with some exasperation. Would this ever end? "I don't need it. Really."

"Sure." He wasn't convinced. Truthfully, she was glad he took so much concern in her well-being, despite the irritation it caused her. Then she saw a grin break out on his face.

"What are you smiling about?"

"I'm going to call Madam Pomfrey."

She gasped. "You wouldn't."

Now, he was the one holding the smug smile. "I would and I will."

"Don't. Ron, don't."

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called into the air.

"You—you—" she had an overwhelming urge to call him some names that would turn his mother's head.

"You called, dear?" asked Madam Pomfrey, having arrived at his side.

"Hermione needs a pain potion."

"Does she?" replied Madam Pomfrey. She turned to me with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head. She turned back to Ron. "I believe Miss Granger is perfectly capable of deciding whether or not she needs a pain potion. She can ask me herself. Now I think it is time for the two of you to go to sleep." She turned away and went back to her office.

Sleep. That was never a good thing for Ron. And Hermione could see the unhappiness in his eyes.

"Well, sweet dreams, Ron," she said, immediately realizing the idiocy of her words as soon as they escaped her lips. "I'm sorry! That's not—"

"I know," he replied gently. "It's okay. Sleep well, Hermione."

They both knew that they would wake up again, but this time, Ron had the comfort of her concern and Hermione had the comfort of knowing that he knew she wanted to comfort him. For now, that comfort would carry them through the night.


	7. Needing

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Six: Needing

_They lie with you while you're asleep…_

She should've known the day was going to be bad when she woke up to hear Lavender giggling and rain pelting the window. Hermione should have known the two things didn't mix. But as she had since November, she got ready and went down to breakfast.

Alone.

She ate alone and went back to her room alone where she read alone. Then, she couldn't stand sitting anymore and went walking along the corridors. She saw a bustle surrounding the Hospital Wing as she approached, and upon coming closer, she saw Harry. _Harry? Then where's —_ With fear, she hurtled up to Harry, demanding to know where Ron was. Then, she looked into the window of the Hospital. And she saw her favorite redhead, laying as still as death. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. "How?" she asked in disbelief, her voice breaking.

Harry placed a hand on her back. "Poison, I suppose."

_Why?_

"Oh! No! He's not dead! I got him a bezoar. I think he's okay."

Hermione didn't shed a tear, even as they were allowed into Ron's room, hours later. She was mostly silent, only speaking at a few moments, not wishing to be drawn into the obsessive conversation about why he had been poisoned. When they left a half hour later, she went straight to bed, keeping her tears in.

The next morning, she went back to the Hospital Wing, originally with Harry. But he soon left her alone.

Alone.

Hermione sat down in a chair near his bedside. She looked at Ron and began to cry mostly at her own stupidity. She stopped talking to him because he wasn't with her. How idiotic. As if she really expected him to fall for her. She hadn't talked to him for months and could've very well died and, now that she thought about it, still could in this bed. She sobbed loudly without restraint, the room empty.

Anger still welled up inside her. In part because he was better than that slut and part because Hermione loved him, but mostly because he hadn't produced an inkling that he wanted to snog Lavender. Sure, he could've kept it from her, but it was clear that Harry hadn't a clue either. So she was left to wonder why he had done so. Had he forgotten that he promised to tell her his dreams?

She sighed and wiped her eyes, feeling it was futile to do so, as his parents, the twins, and Ginny came in again. She hadn't expected them, and stood to leave as she had done last night, but Mrs. Weasley put a hand on her shoulder, and pushed her gently back into the chair. "You belong here just as much as any of us." And the tears flowed down Hermione's face again. She retracted into silence again, listening to the Weasleys' discussion.

Even when Lavender burst in, she was silent.

"Why didn't anyone tell me that Ron was in the Hospital?" she asked, in her usual shrillness.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Weasley answered simply. "I was not aware of your importance."

"And _her_?" Lavender asked, gesturing towards Hermione.

"_She_ has been coming home with him for many summers and Christmases now."

Lavender, for what seemed to Hermione to be the first time in her life, was struck dumb. Then Madam Pomfrey came in, saying, "Six visitors only!" and ushered Lavender out into the corridor, while Lavender squealed, "But I'm his _girlfriend_!" Ginny snorted, but resumed a straight face almost immediately.

Now, the Weasleys were long gone, having left her at Ron's bedside hours ago.

Alone. Once again.

She looked down and saw how pale he was. It appeared that even his freckles had lost color. The freckles she loved. The boy she loved. She wanted to touch him, hold him, and tell him he was alright.

Rain had fallen day and night since she had woken up yesterday, loudly and softly, drizzles and storms. She needed it to be her companion now. Now that she was alone with her thoughts for company.

She realized that all her hopes lay with the unconscious boy in front of her. All her hopes, all her dreams, all her desires. Everything that made her Hermione Granger was with him.

"_I need you,_" she whispered.

She chuckled wearily as she remembered the first and only time he had spoken. Her heart had nearly stopped when she heard him croak. "Er-my-nee." Like all those many months ago when she had tried to teach Viktor her name (quite in vain). Her name.

Her eyes filled with tears and she once again became too choked up to speak. He had missed her, too. She was sure of it. So she resolved to begin speaking to him again. She wouldn't let one of them die when they weren't speaking.

And she reached out her hand and took his, cool to her touch. And as the thunder crashed outside, she decided to warm it up.


	8. Missing

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Seven: Missing

_My thoughts are many miles away…_

As Ron and Harry bellowed at each other, Hermione relished the crack of thunder and rain pelting the tent walls. She wished for rain to wash away all the anger from her two best friends. Then she heard Ron speaking to her: "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered, having tried to block out their conversation.

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I . . ." She looked anguished. "Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

"I get it. You choose him."

"Ron, no—please—come back, come back!"

"_Choose him? That's the farthest thing from what I want to do! I love you!"_

But she didn't actually say that. Because Ron had stormed out of the tent. She was impeded by her own Shield Charm. For a split second, standing in front of the blockage, her brain stopped. _Oh God. Oh God. What's the counter spell? Oh God. Oh God. Gotta stop Ron. Gotta stop—_ Then her brain produced the spell and she removed the Shield as quickly as her mouth would move.

"RON!" She bellowed into the dark, wet air. She saw a flash of his red hair and ran towards it as fast as her short legs would carry her. "_Ron!_ Stop!"

He turned her with pain in his eyes. "No. I won't," he said, sounding as if he were also convincing himself. "I won't go back with you to be ignored and—and to have my best friends treat me like I'm useless."

"Ron! We don't think you're useless! We love you!"

Ron glared at her. "That's obvious," he said with sarcasm. And he Disapparated with a seemingly defiant crack.

Thunder crashed. Wind gusted. Time stopped. Hermione whispered. "I _love you._" But he was gone. And she screamed. And she sobbed his name.

She returned to the tent, barely coherent, telling Harry that Ron was gone and collapsed into a chair, continuing to cry. _Doesn't he know how much I need him? I told him, didn't I? How could he leave me?_

Eventually, the tears stopped and she pretended to be asleep. Harry wrapped her in a blanket, a kind gesture. But it was Ron's blanket. His Chudley Cannons blanket. Her senses were assaulted by his smell. She inhaled his scent, and it made her eyes water. She could taste him. With all those things and her eyes closed, feigning sleep, she imagined she could see him and hear him, kneeling at the foot of her chair and telling her he was sorry he even considered leaving. _"Don't cry," _he told her. _"It's alright. I'm here."_

But she could stop, she wouldn't back away from the smell. She _wanted_ the smell, as badly as she opposed it.

Rain continued to pelt the canvas of the tent, reminding her constantly of the debacle outside. She sighed, fighting back the tears that overwhelmed her. She missed him. She missed him just being there and she knew she would continue to miss him. She drifted off to sleep imagining his arms around her.

When she awoke, she remembered almost immediately. She sighed and willed her heart to be silent, knowing she wouldn't be able to block him out and also knowing that she might never see him again.

Her resolution that she and Ron shouldn't stop talking to each other, for fear of his death led to nothing. He was gone. She had no clue were he was or if he was okay. She was alone with Harry. They barely spoke, and he spent her days with her books. And suddenly, she was twelve and fourteen and fifteen and seventeen again. She was ultimately to be alone. She had to grasp to those who wouldn't leave her: her books. She went to The Beedle and the Bard with all her concentration, working on translating it with all her mind and heart. It would not leave her and neither would Jane Eyre. And that was who she returned to.

----

Next chapter: Two days after the kiss and Hermione is losing her mind.


	9. Thirsting

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Eight: Thirsting

_Kiss you when you start the day..._

As she saw Ron's eyes hollow out as they passed Fred's body, she reached for his hand. He took it, but there was reluctance in his touch. A reluctance she didn't understand.

She smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry." The statement was so quiet that she was surprised he had heard it.

"Thanks." His voice was a broken mess. She knew why he didn't say more. She squeezed his hand for comfort, but said nothing. He wasn't comfortable showing his emotion yet. She understood. She'd wait for him to do so.

He was leaving the day after tomorrow. It had been two days since the end of the battle. Two days since their kiss on the seventh floor.

And she was losing her mind.

Not from the lack of physical contact. From the lack of emotional contact. He hadn't talked to her seriously since then and she was lost as to why. Had she not made her intentions clear to him? She constantly tortured herself with fantasies. He was either telling her he found her worse than Lavender or declaring that he couldn't love another. The latter was in a manner so unlike Ron that she sometimes laughed, but the former was just horrifying.

His revulsion and insistence that they "just be friends" had kept her from making a move for so long that she couldn't remember when it started. Now, as she was faced with that possibility, she thought of it whenever he opened his mouth. His reluctance at taking her hand was further torture, making this possibility more prevalent in her with every passing minute.

She sighed as they reached the stairs to the Gryffindor girls' rooms. "Goodnight, Ron," she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and then deciding against it when Ron dropped her hand. She silently climbed the stairs, steeling herself to spend another tortured night alone.

----

When she awoke, before dawn, she dressed quickly and sat in the windowsill of her bedroom, resolving to read Jane Eyre. Reading. Her only escape. She wouldn't have read Jane Eyre if she had a choice, for it only furthered her insecurities, but she had brought no other books from home in the summer. So she opened it to the page on which she left it and began to read. She took a gasping breath as she reached a page she recognized well: _I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously arrived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me._

She looked up and willed her eyes to behave for once. It was apropos for her, especially now. Especially now that Ron was keeping his feelings from her. Ron, who had always been vocal and very open, was choosing to be silent now. When she finally succeeded in combating her tears, she looked out of the window, finding the sunrise. Her eyes were fixed upon it, like a spell. The grass was golden with the low sun and she smiled bitterly. It was a new physical day, but her anxiety continued with no regard for the changes in daylight.

She went downstairs to the currently empty Common Room, sitting in the chair that she always reserved for reading and continued. Following Jane through her trials, Hermione enveloped herself in the plot as if it were new to her. When she at last came to the chestnut tree, Hermione forced herself to stop, knowing it would only lead to tears. She closed her eyes and laid back in her chair, thinking of Ron once again. Then she heard his voice and she looked up, and upon seeing him, her heart swelled. He sat across from her and opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words escaping his lips. "Listen, I'm–I'm–"

"Sorry?"

"Yes, for being so–so–"

"Distant?" she offered.

"Yes. It's just–I'm–"

"Sad?"

"Would you let me finish a bloody sentence?" he asked angrily.

"Sorry," she said, shrinking back slightly.

He took a deep breath. "I'm–I have a lot on my mind. And I need to figure some things out."

She nodded. "You know, Harry and I will listen to you about anything if you need us, don't you?"

He flinched. "Yeah. I know. But I feel more detached since I–"

She turned her head away, trying not to show her tears, knowing what he meant.

"Since I left."

She looked at him seriously, not allowing herself to cry. "Why did you really leave?"

Ron let a long breath before answering. "I felt like I wasn't important."

"But we needed you." She paused, and then whispered. "Especially me."

Ron looked at her with resignation. "What did you need me for? To interrupt your little love affair with Harry?"

"_Love affair?_" she said, standing quickly. Her voice and pitch were steadily rising. "_That's_ what you think? How could you possibly–"

"Oh come on, Hermione," he interrupted angrily, as if she were insulting his intelligence. "You two're the Chosen One and the Brightest Witch of Our Time! Why would you–" he stopped in mid-sentence again and shook his head. "It was inevitable." All his anger had drained out of his words.

"How could you possibly think that Harry and I would keep you out of that?" she asked angrily.

"You were keeping everything else from me! Why not?" he replied, fire in his eyes. He was backing up as he continued to speak. "Why would that be any different?"

Hermione was completely lost in rage. "Are you blind?! My God! I thought you couldn't get any more dense!" she screamed, also backing away from him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you miss that kiss a couple of days ago? Did that just go over your head?" she asked with sarcastic fury. Apparently, her intentions _weren't_ clear.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" he said with contempt. "Yes, Hermione! I completely missed that little event."

"Obviously so! Because if you hadn't, you would understand that I was laying it out there for all the world to see! Including Harry. Right in front of us." How could he think–

"It's not like that couldn't have been a plan to keep me from knowing–"

"Oh my God! How could you think that we would go that far to hide it from you? Are you _insane_?"

"No, but I'm 'dense', so obviously I could've missed anything you would've shown me!"

"Oh, please! Even _you_ aren't that dense!"

"No, you think I am, so obviously I am because you know _everything_!"

"Yes, I know _everything_! That's exactly why I understand what's going on in your bloody head!"

Ron was taken aback for a few moments at her swearing, but then he continued. "You wanna know what's going on my head? I'm wondering why you told me you needed me!"

She threw her hands up in the air. "We did!"

"No! Last year, in the Hospital Wing. You told me you needed me. And you sounded so pathetic, I believed you. God, I _am_ stupid. I believed you!"

"What–how? You were–"

"Unconscious? Not quite."

"But–" Hermione stopped and thought back to those two days. Those two days that were so horrible. "I meant it! I still mean it!"

"Yes. You made that so clear," he said sarcastically. "I can't believe I–"

"You seriously think I'm with Harry?" she asked, desperate for him to understand. When he didn't answer, she continued, getting quieter with each word. "You think I would hurt Ginny like that? You think I'd do that to my heart when it wants, needs, loves someone else so completely?" Tears finally leaked over her eyelids.

He stepped back even further. "What do you mean?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shrieked, "_I love you!_ I love _you!_ I love you. I've loved you for years and I don't think it's going to end any time soon!" He stood stock-still, mouth gaping open, not saying anything. _Oh God. I've done it. I've ruined it._

She rushed past him through the portrait hole and out into the corridor that was being repaired. She saw rain cascading through the windows and ran to the nook.

There was a small nook behind a knight on the third floor, a nook in which she had found many happy couples snogging. She got into it and drew her knees up to her neck, crying silently until her chest ached. Why didn't he love her? Why didn't he understand? Why–why–why couldn't she get her happily ever after?

----

She returned to the Common Room late that night, not wishing to face him. She didn't want to put on a brave face.

Harry was sitting on a couch in front of the fire. "There you are! Where have you been?"

"Somewhere," she replied vaguely. "I suppose the Weasleys have already left."

"Yeah, hours ago. Why weren't you–"

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry," she replied primly.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he said. "Ron didn't seem surprised that you weren't there. Did something–"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Hermione said loudly. "Can you let it alone?"

Harry put both his hands in front of his chest, gesturing surrender. "Sure. Whatever. You left your book over there on that chair."

"Thanks," she said, going over to pick it up. She went up to her room, not willing to speak to anyone.

She opened Jane Eyre. _Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!-I have as much soul as you,-and full as much heart!_

The words struck a chord on her heartstrings, but she had no tears left. She had cried them all day and had none left. Hermione continued to read Jane's story, not pausing until she turned the page and a folded piece of paper fell out of it.

"_Where is he? Where does he now live?"_

"_At Ferndean, a manor-house on a farm he has…"_

She opened the paper and was shocked to find Ron's lovable scrawl:

_Hermione,_

_As I write this letter, I wonder where the hell you've gone. You've run from me like I was going to attack you. Which I might've done, actually, if you hadn't left. You see, I wanted to hear those words you screamed at me before you stormed out. And I had to pull myself together before I jumped you for a snog._

_Hermione, as you probably well know, I'm a very jealous bloke. And it's caused me to do stupid things in regard to you for as long as I've liked you. (Yes, I like you. Very much more than you might think.) It's ironic, really, how badly I've fucked things up trying to keep you from other guys. How I've driven you away when all I want is to keep you for myself._

_It all started with Viktor Krum, the git. Well, really, that was my fault too, but anyway. I should've grown a set and just asked you, but you see, I was quite stupid. And I decided instead to ask people I didn't even really care for. Not like I cared for you._

_But when I saw him escorting you in, I was so angry that I probably could've broken his arm._

_Okay, maybe not. Cause he was older than me and had like five stone on me. But you get the point._

_I was so angry at him and at me for not asking you. And I took it out on you. I just wanted to be mad at someone besides myself. I couldn't say anything to him, so I just–Well, I'm sure you remember._

_When I started snogging Lavender, that was because Ginny told me that you and Viktor had snogged and pointed out that I had no experience. The thought of that bastard putting his hands on you (and you enjoying it) made my blood boil. I knew that you had invited me to Slughorn's party, but I just knew you meant as friends. And I didn't need to be your friend. So I went to find a girl that actually could possibly like me; not someone who'd dated International Quidditch players because I was too stupid to ask you out._

_And then I was jealous of Cormac McLaggen, the fucking sod. Even he'd got to kiss you before I did. So I didn't break up with Lavender, even though I wanted to. I didn't like her. I spent all my time wishing she was you and that I hadn't pissed you off. Cormac McLaggen._

_When I got sent to the Hospital because I was poisoned, and I heard you telling me you needed me, I knew you still cared, so I wanted to break up with Lavender. Which took me awhile._

_Then, I was jealous of Harry. Harry. The Chosen One. You two were the smart ones, the ones making plans, the ones that could do anything. I was just the stupid ginger you couldn't get rid of. You two were meant for each other. You were close to each other and I knew that I was in the way. I was so jealous of him that I left._

_Hermione, I left because I couldn't see you with Harry. I couldn't see you two together when I wanted you for myself so badly. But I wanted you to be happy. And I wanted Harry to be happy. Forget all the rubbish I spouted when I left. I just couldn't see you two together. I left to get out of the way._

_I'm still jealous of them. _

_I'm still jealous of Viktor, who had the nerve to ask you out properly and got to kiss you first. _

_Cormac, who took my place at your side at that party because I was still jealous of Viktor. _

_And Harry, because he deserves you so much more than I do._

_Because I'm an idiot. I couldn't see that you were there. That you wanted me too._

_I'm laying it out. Right here. If there's any way that you could still love me or forgive me from being the most stupid bastard to ever enter your life, I'm begging you to let me have another chance. To take all the stupid rubbish I've done away and replace it with some new rubbish that I'll do._

_But at least this time, you'll know that I'm trying. You'll know that I want you. You'll know that I love you._

_With love,_

_Ron_

Hermione laughed shakily. This letter was longer than any essay he'd ever written. She checked her watch. Two in the morning. Too late to go now. She knew she wouldn't sleep well tonight.

----

She awoke at ten, much later than usual, and frantically dressed, barely noticing the rain plummeting to the ground outside. Going to McGonagall's office, the deputy headmistress laughed quietly.

"The Burrow?"

Hermione nodded.

"I knew you wouldn't last long," McGonagall said, smiling knowingly at the younger woman. She proffered the jar of the precious powder and allowed Hermione to take her pinch and throwing it into the fire. When the hue of the flames transformed, she stepped in.

"The Burrow!" she shouted, experiencing a feeling much like Apparition.

She stepped out of the grate and immediately saw Molly sweeping.

"Hermione!" she exclaimed with surprise.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. I hate to brush you off, but where's Ron?"

She smiled slightly. "He went for a walk a short while ago. He can't have gone far."

"Thank you."

Molly took one of her hands briefly. "Good luck."

Hermione practically ran from the house, hurrying down the path. Within a minute, she was soaked, inundated in water and fear. With every step, she feared he was getting further and further away.

Then, she glimpsed red. "_Ron!_"

He turned to her form and she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his body. Then he did the same.

"Did you mean what you wrote?"

"Every word."

Hermione pulled back and took his face in her hands. "Nothing you ever did–or could ever do–will ever make me love you less. You can't drive me away."

He mirrored the placement of her hands and said, "That's good. 'Cause I love you way too much to share you with anyone else." She wrapped her arms around her neck as he slid his around her waist and kissed her tenderly, drinking in her taste. It was the perfect second kiss.

They were about to die of thirst.

And then the rains came.

And it was a new day.

----

Next chapter: Two years later at Harry and Ginny's housewarming party.


	10. Warming

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Nine: Warming

_Soft and warm continuing…_

Hermione stood in front of her mirror and appraised her appearance in the barely lit bedroom. It was dusk and raining. Her strapless black dress came down to the top of her knees and the heels she wore lifted her to something that brought her much closer to Ron's gargantuan height. Her hair was up and managed, her makeup flattering her features. She knew Ron was sitting in the living room, waiting for her to emerge so that they could go to Harry and Ginny's housewarming party. But something wasn't right.

Her neck. Her neck was too bare. She turned to her jewelry box and pulled out the necklace Ron had given her a little over four months ago for the second anniversary of their second kiss. The kiss that had changed them.

----

_They had been sitting on the couch in their flat, Hermione on the couch on one side of the coffee table and Ron in his chair on the other._

_"It's not a lot–" he said, as she opened the box. It was a golden pendant that had been shaped into swirls on a gold chain._

_To his eyes, the necklace was just a piece of metal. There were no jewels, no stones of any sort. He was almost ashamed of its simplicity._

_To her eyes, it was beautiful. She had looked up at him, smiling, and then back at it. And she saw the engraving on it. "I love you…" in calligraphy._

_"You see, no one else can see the words except us. Well, the people whose names are on the back._

_She turned it over and saw their entire names on the back. Ronald Bilius Weasley. Hermione Jean Granger._

_He cleared his throat. "I was going to have 'Property of Ronald Weasley' put on it, but I didn't think that would go over well," he joked weakly, trying to make the moment less silent. He was clearly nervous._

_Then she launched herself over the table and onto him, kissing him wildly, reminiscent of Lavender._

_When they came up for air, she asked him, "What happens when my name changes?"_

_Ron looked at her with confusion. "What do you mean? Why–"_

_"I mean when we get married." Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands, realizing what she had said._

_"Maybe I should've kept the original inscription," he muttered, smiling. "When your name changes, you'll have a completely different piece of jewelry."_

----

She latched it and looked again.

Perfect.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress, and left the room. Ron was looking to the door in his casual pants under dress robes. He immediately stood and crossed the room in a few strides to stand in front of her.

"You're beautiful," he said, smiling in wonder at her.

"You're crazy," she said, shyly. It didn't matter how long she'd been with him. She would always be shy when he said things like that.

"Maybe so. But I don't mind being mad if it gets me you," he said. He offered his arm. "Shall we go?"

"Aren't we being the gentleman?" she replied, taking it.

"I practiced while I was waiting for you to come out of there. You know, you don't have to try so–" he stopped abruptly, his eyes on her necklace. "You're wearing it."

Her hand immediately went up to touch it. "Yes. It's my favorite." It wasn't as if she hadn't worn it before. She wore it often. In fact, Ginny asked her in jest if she had lost it when she wasn't wearing it.

"I'm glad you're wearing it," he said, grinning.

"Good. Because I'm not taking it off."

And they Apparated to Harry and Ginny's new home.

----

When they arrived in Harry and Ginny's living room, the house was quiet, seemingly empty. Hermione saw Ron check his watch.

"We're on time," he said, bewildered. "Where is everyone?"

She thought she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. She pushed the swinging door open and found Ginny giving instructions to a house elf. Then Ginny turned and saw Hermione watching.

"Oh God. Why aren't you outside at the party?"

"It's raining. I assumed the party would be inside. Why are you giving instructions to a house elf?" She replied, her voice rising. "You know how–"

"Hermione," she said, putting both hands palms forward in front of her, a gesture of surrender. "Calm down. He's being paid. I swear."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Harry and I were afraid you would–" She paused. "Pitch a fit."

"Ah." Hermione was not unaware of her propensity for argument. "I understand."

"Go on. You're missing a party."

She grinned at her best friend, and hugged her. "Happy Housewarming."

"Thanks. The party's in a marquee in the backyard. I'll be out in a bit."

Hermione came out of the kitchen and found Ron standing exactly as she left him in the living room, watching the door.

"The party's in a marquee outside."

"Oh. Okay." Ron was watching her warily.

"He's being paid."

"Oh thank Merlin."

She laughed. "Am I really that scary?"

He looked at her with surprise. "Hell yes."

She continued to laugh and said, "Come on. We're missing a party."

She Apparated into the festivities with Ron, who immediately gravitated towards Harry. She, however, saw another face.

"Viktor!" She exclaimed, glimpsing the old acquaintance.

He turned and so did Ron. "Hermi–Herm–" He gave up the fight to pronounce her name. "How are you?"

Hermione heard Ron muttering something–but what, she couldn't make out–under his breath at which Harry laughed loudly. "I'm well. You?"

"I am vell also," he said with a great smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I coach Ginny on the Harpies. We are friends of sorts."

She vaguely remembered reading somewhere that he coached the team. "Oh! She's never mentioned seeing you," she said, looking at Harry questioningly out of the corner of her eye. He shrugged.

Viktor leaned forward conspiratorially. "I believe that is because of your friend, that Ron."

"Oh. Ron." She smiled at him automatically. "Yes. That's probably why."

"Yes, you see, I do not tink he likes me very much." He briefly looked confused. "Yet, I do not tink I have done anyting to him."

Hermione laughed quietly. "I wouldn't worry about that." She had a wicked thought. "He's probably just jealous."

Ron scoffed from a few feet away. So he _was_ still listening.

Viktor grinned, showing his crooked smile. "Perhaps."

Dinner was announced. Harry sat next to Ginny, Ron next to Harry, Hermione next to Ron, and Viktor next to Hermione. Ron was clearly not pleased. He held her hand tightly, possessively. She spoke mostly to her old friends, but whenever Viktor spoke to her, Ron gripped her hand tighter. She smiled surreptitiously at his protective nature. She was happy to note that he was still the jealous bloke she knew and loved.

When dinner was over, Ron immediately asked her for a dance. She feigned decision.

"Sure. I guess I could."

And she didn't regret it. He gave his entire attention to making sure she enjoyed it, and she certainly did. He spun, twirled, and dipped her during the faster songs until she was gasping to be back in view of his façade. Then there was the first slow song.

Ron held her tantalizingly close, pressing against her tightly, his hands on her lower back, hers wrapped around his neck. She felt the warmth radiating off of him and his breath in her hair and it made her want to come even closer, to hold even tighter.

When he knew no one was watching, he licked the shell of her ear, making her shiver. She could feel him grinning. He thought it was funny. Then she wrapped one leg around his waist and the other around his leg, making them as close as they could be. He didn't like it so much then. He gulped and she felt his arousal and the heat coming off of him intensified. She laughed alluringly and kissed his jaw.

He dipped her close to the floor slowly, kissing her slowly and deeply. The song ended, he brought her up and the second slow song came on directly after the first. Now they were chaste, back in their original positions, his cheek pressing against hers.

After a minute of the pure closeness, she whispered quietly into his ear, "You were holding my hand awfully tightly at dinner."

"Was I? I didn't notice." He acted dismissive and unconcerned, but as she pulled back, she saw the disturbance in his eyes. He was looking everywhere but at her face.

"It was almost…possessive. As if someone was trying to take me away," she prompted.

"Like that Bulgarian git?" His arms tightened around her. "The bastard still has a soft spot for you."

She laughed quietly, putting her head back in his shoulder. "Oh, Ron. You're so paranoid."

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed," Ron replied angrily. "He wants to charm you, Hermione. He wants to take you away."

She pulled back again. "I'm not easily charmed."

He laughed derisively. "Yes, that's clear. 'He's probably just jealous'. That was really nice, love."

"It's true!"

"Yes, but that stealing git doesn't need to know that. He thinks I'm jealous for all the wrong reasons. He wants to take you away," he repeated slowly. He looked away from her again, trying not to make eye contact.

"Hey," she said, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. "I love _you_. Viktor is not a threat to you. You have no need to–" She felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to find Viktor holding out his hand. "May I cut in?"

She turned back to Ron with a pleading expression, her concern clear. He looked at Viktor crossly for a moment and then nodded tersely. She nodded in response. She knew the song. There was no more than two minutes left, if that. "I suppose I could."

"Thank you."

She took his hand and he led her away from Ron, who went to sit at his place at the table.

He was not quite as languid, smooth as Ron. His dancing was mechanical, predictable. She knew his move before he made it. After half a minute, he asked, "Who gave you zat necklace?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I didn't buy it myself?"

He shrugged. "I have seen you…toying vith it. Like it is…important to you."

She smiled. "It is. Ron gave it to me. Our second anniversary."

"I heard you fighting vith him."

She laughed quietly. "Yes, but we'll get over it. We quarrel constantly, but we always forget we've done it. Our anger never lasts long."

"You do? But vy? If you constantly fight, vere is ze feeling, ze passion?"

Hermione's smile faded. "Our passion is in the fighting." She paused and, to make sure he understood, she added, "I love him, Viktor. And he loves me."

Viktor frowned, his forehead lined with thought. "I do not understand. Vat do you see in that…Ron?"

She frowned also. "I see many things you do not. I see many things most do not." She was again, she realized, "toying" with her necklace. The song ended, and so, she also realized, did their relations. "Good night, Viktor."

"Good night, Herm–Her–"

"Hermione," she said slowly. "Her-my-oh-knee." She gestured to her knee, but received no comprehension.

"Good night, my friend," he said. She smiled; glad she had not made an enemy of him, though she did not want much to do with him. He kissed her hand politely and walked away, disappearing into the small crowd.

Ron was at her side before she knew it. She grinned widely at him. "As I was saying, you do not need to fear Viktor. I will not leave you for Viktor."

He shook his head. "Why wouldn't I? He is rich, famous, athletic, polite. How do I compare?"

She took his hands and said, "I don't need rich and famous. And I certainly don't need polite. I need you."

Ron smiled. "Are you so sure you don't want to leave me and run after him before he gets away?"

"Ron, he can't even say my name," she said, laughing. "He doesn't understand what I like. He isn't–" She paused and looked at Ron, making sure he saw her solemnity. "He isn't _you_, Ron. I can't be Hermione without you."

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her, and dipped her with the music. "I was hoping you'd say something like that."

She grinned as well, happy as could be.

----

She and Ron danced through the night. In the early hours of the morning, Hermione shivered, realizing she was freezing. It was cold out tonight. The rain was still softly falling outside.

"You alright?" he asked, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"I'm cold," she replied simply.

He opened his dress robes and invited her wordlessly into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his body, warming herself with his heat. He held his robes around her on her back, holding her to him, and kissed the top of her head with affection. They swayed silently with the music, despite the tempo.

Hermione's favorite song came on. The song that always reminded her of Ron. It was Moonlight Serenade, a Glenn Miller classic. Her grandmother had played it for her many times in her childhood, but when she got older, she always associated the song with her love.

She hummed along quietly and felt Ron lean down to position his mouth close to her ear. "I have a favor to ask of you."

She held him tighter. "Which is?" She wouldn't offer commitment unless she knew the request.

"I was wondering if you would be my wife."

There was a silence in her head, though she knew the song was still playing. "What?"

"Will you marry me?"

She pulling back and stared at him with wonder. "Yes. Yes!"

His laugh pealed joyously over the music, and he punched the air with triumph. He turned his head wildly, looking for someone. "Harry!" he shouted towards their place near the middle of the small crowd. "She said yes!"

Ginny laughed with delight and Harry yelled, "It's about bloody time!"

Hermione giggled and Ron opened a box, revealing a simple ruby set. He lifted it out of the box, showing her the blank inside. He smiled. "Can you read that?" She shook her head. "That's because it has Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jean Weasley on the inside. When you marry me, you'll be able to read the engraving."

She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. "What does it say?"

"Property of Ronald Bilius Weasley." And he kissed her with a passion resembling that of a life of love.

And she was so glad to receive it.


	11. Watching

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Ten: Watching

_And as I watch the drops of rain…_

Her mother stood behind her chair in a back room of the little chapel and placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders. Hermione sat in front of a mirror, staring at her reflection. She couldn't believe it was the day. Not just her wedding day, but _the_ day. It was March first, and that was more important than any wedding, even hers. Ron hadn't understood why it was so important that they be married on his birthday.

----

"It's not just your birthday," she said quietly. "It's the day the rain began. Your birthday is…"

Ron looked utterly bewildered.

She started from the beginning. "When I was born, it stopped raining. It didn't rain or snow or anything until the March first after I was born. My mother always said that somewhere, something important was happening. My theory is that I really couldn't live until you were born."

He looked at her, still confused. "But you _were_ alive."

She sighed, wondering how to explain. "Rain, for me, is life. If there wasn't rain…I love rain. You know that. Rain is…rain has always been with me, been important in my life, and rain started on March first. Ron, if you hadn't been born on March first, I don't know if I'd still be who I am."

"That's silly, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "You made Hermione Granger. Not me."

"Yes, Ron. But you changed my life." She sighed. "You made me the person I am right now. I'm not sure I'd still be the way I am if you hadn't been in my life. I wouldn't've fallen in love with you. I wouldn't have gotten almost killed by a troll. My life would've been completely different." Hermione laughed. "I might have been marrying Neville right now!"

Ron laughed loudly.

"You see, if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be the same Hermione. And I'm so glad you exist."

----

"I'm so proud of you," Jean Granger said quietly, squeezing her shoulders gently.

"Proud?" Hermione asked, turning to look at her mother. "Proud of what? I'm just getting married."

Jean laughed. "You'll understand when you get older. I'm proud of you for finding what you want and holding onto it. It's what every parent dreams for their child." Hermione turned back to the mirror and stared for a long moment at her mother's reflection. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Do you remember telling me that something important must've happened on March first?"

Her mother smiled, obviously remembering. "Yes. Today is March first. Isn't that funny? It must've been what would happen."

Hermione grinned. "No, Mum. It is what _happened_."

Her mother frowned. "I don't understand."

"Today is Ron's birthday."

Her mother's hands slipped from Hermione's shoulders to her sides. "It is?"

"Yes. That was what happened on that March first that was so important."

"Oh, Hermione!" her mother said, hugging her daughter around the shoulders. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Hermione laughed. "I knew you did."

Jean laughed loudly. "Your father is going to hear about this for a long time."

"I figured he would."

"Oh, Hermione," she said again, putting her hands back on Hermione's shoulders. "I'm so happy for you. I'm proud. Prouder than you can know."

"I love you, Mum."

Jean Granger looked down into her daughter's eyes and said, "I love you too."

----

Hermione stood, awaiting the inevitable tune that awaited her. Bach's "Prelude in C Major" was what she chose to walk down the aisle to. The traditional tunes were just too…common. They weren't right.

She heard the song begin and her bridesmaids began to walk in. Upon the first minor chord, thunder pealed and rain seemed to spill down the windows of the chapel. She grinned. Ginny, her maid of honor and last to go in, turned to her and upon noticing Hermione's smile, frowned and asked, "Isn't that supposed to be bad luck?"

Hermione held her head up high. "Not for me."

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "I always knew you were mad."

"Only for your brother."

Ginny laughed and headed into the sanctuary.

Hermione looked out the window beside her, watching rain come down in torrents and smiled. She was ready to walk down the aisle, ready to complete the task ahead.

----

"And now their first dance as husband and wife." There were cheers and shouts, but she hardly heard them. She merely saw Ron walking towards her as she walked towards him.

Hermione stood with Ron in the midst of the dance floor and the familiar notes began. Ron dipped her close to the floor and lifted her up, much in the style of their dancing six months ago. The big band music thrilled Hermione to the core. The dips, the slow spins, the twirls suited the music so well that she knew that somewhere, this song was ingrained inside him as it was in her. She grinned and he brought her close, his cheek to hers.

And then the song ended, and the quick follow-up started, enticing couples onto the floor.

Ron and Hermione danced happily, eyes locked, swallowed up in each other. They barely noticed the world around them through the music.

But then Hermione glimpsed her grandparents. The elderly man had eyes only for the woman in front of him. And though he couldn't move well due to his old age, and was no longer the best dancer in the room, it was clear that he had once danced with the best. And the elderly woman looked entirely at place in his embrace, as if his arms were her sanctuary from the war that was the rest of the world.

She directed Ron so that he could see them and whispered into his ear, "That's what I want."

And he smiled at her. "I think I can manage that." And he kissed her gently.

----

A/N: For your information, the first song they danced to was Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade" and the second was "Cheek to Cheek" which has been done by many people, but in this case, it was the Eva Cassidy version. (If you can find the Rosemary Clooney version, please send me a link. I would love to hear it. Thanks! I'll find something to give you. Perhaps a sneak peek or something. If you care. Give me ideas for that too!)


	12. Dying

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Eleven: Dying

_Weave their weary paths and die…_

Hermione sat in the Muggle hospital waiting room with Ron holding her hand tightly. They were still in their clothes for Sunday dinner at the Burrow. It had been outside, the Weasleys taking advantage of the warm August air. Grandpa Granger was in the intensive care unit for a heart attack. Hermione was on the edge.

"Ron?" she whispered to him, gripping his hand tight, wanting desperately to cry.

"Yeah?" he said, enduring her grip.

"I'm scared," she said quietly, immediately sorry for sounding like a little girl.

"I know," he replied, leaving her hand to put his arm around her and kiss her on the top of the head.

"I wish I could fix him with magic."

He squeezed her shoulders. "You can't."

A tear leaked out. "I know. But that doesn't stop me from wishing."

He swallowed. "Yeah. I know."

She leaned into his shoulder, wishing there weren't armrests between them. She wanted to be under his arm, feeling protected, but it wasn't right to sit on his lap.

----

It was finally her turn to go in the room. She took Ron by the hand and they went into the room. "Grandpa?"

"Mione?" His eyes didn't see her. His glasses were missing.

Her old pet name brought tears to her eyes. "Well, do you have another grandchild?" She was an only child and so was her father. The elder Grangers clung to her like leeches.

He smiled and laughed. "You haven't lost that about you. I'm so glad to hear you."

Her tears fell like the rain that now pounded outside. "I'm glad to hear you too."

He looked around. "I wish I could really see you and that boy you've got hidden in here somewhere, but the nurses have taken my glasses."

She laughed shakily. Ron stepped forward and touched his shoulder. "Good evening, sir."

"Oh, boy. Don't call me sir. Call me Grandpa or something." He paused. "You know, I always wanted a grandson."

Ron laughed a little. "I've always wanted a grandpa."

"Well, then I guess we belong to each other. Sit down you two."

Hermione loved that about them. Ron and Grandpa. Their openness to accept always thrilled her. She sat, watching them together and was so sad that they only really met like this.

"I guess so." Ron grinned.

"Well, if you belong to me, I guess I should know what your name is. What is your name, boy?"

"I'm Ron, Grandpa. Ron Weasley." Hermione took his hand.

"So, are you enjoying my granddaughter?"

Hermione laughed out loud. "Grandpa! What a question!" She covered her face with the hand that wasn't under Ron's possession. "I'm glad you haven't lost your wickedness too."

Ron laughed loudly. "I am. She's the best wife I could hope for."

Grandpa looked skeptically in his direction. "I'm sure she drives you mad."

"That she does. She's a crazy bird, but I love her." He squeezed her hand.

"Yes. That I understand. You know, she came to our house all the time when she was younger. During the summer, she'd spend weeks with us."

"Really? She never told me about it."

"She hasn't? I would think it would be some of her fonder memories. But then again, she met you at school. Then she came talking about you."

"Did she?" Ron looked at Hermione, grinning. "That, I might've guessed."

"You see, she would come up to the house and get to sleep all day instead of having to go to work with her parents. Her dad didn't like her to be home alone, even when she got to be older. He wanted her to be watched. I didn't have a job, so she came up and got to do whatever she wanted all day. My wife and I preferred that over her having to get up early every morning. Mostly, she stayed out of the way and read. I worked outside, and every now and again, she'd help with something."

"That does sound like her. She gets very absorbed in things. Reading, mostly. Work, mostly."

"Yeah. Her own little world. Hermione?" He said suddenly, looking at her. "You're awfully quiet."

"You two have talked me out of the conversation." She paused for a moment, tears gathering. "Grandpa, I don't want you to think that because I don't talk about it all the time that those memories weren't important to me," she tried to explain. "There are so many stories to tell about my life and those aren't ever the memories that people want to know. They always want to hear the things that have put me in danger and made my cry, not the things that made me happy and the time when life was simple. The things I've tried to keep from you." Tears were again falling wildly.

Her grandfather reached out to cup her face in his hand. "You don't have to apologize. I do understand that. You remember, I was in a war." Hermione nodded, unable to speak. He felt it. "They all want to hear about what you saw, the bad you experienced. Not the good. Not the love you found in friends." She nodded again.

"_Can I tell him?_" Ron asked her. She nodded. "We were in a war too. A war without guns. We had to hide out."

Grandpa nodded. "I figured as much. Hermione was different when she came back briefly that summer. I knew she had been forced to grow up." Tears fell hard and fast. "Oh, 'Mione. Stop crying. It's a fact of life. Your elders will always know more than they let on."

Hermione laughed and wiped her face. "Yes, Grandpa. That I know."

----

It turned out that Ron and Grandpa got on swimmingly. Even after Grandpa got out of the hospital, Hermione and Ron went to visit at the house he shared with Hermione's grandma every now and again. Then, one rainy August morning the next year, Hermione got a call from Grandma.

"He's gone." His heart had stopped in his sleep.

She didn't cry. She was shocked. He got better. He couldn't—

Quietly, she told Ron. They ate breakfast. They went to work. They came home. They had dinner. They went to bed.

Hermione woke up the next morning and realized what had happened. Then, the floodgates opened.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked her, waking up to find her weeping.

"He's dead!" she blubbered.

"Oh, Hermione." Ron wrapped his arms around her and let her cry.

They called sick from work. They laid in bed all morning, her crying, him consoling. They didn't bathe. They didn't eat until noon.

And Ron just held her.

----

They walked into their bedroom and Hermione began to take off her mourning clothes slowly. She sighed shakily, trying not to cry again. She focused on the sound of the rain outside. That would help. Her breathing following the tempo. The pitter-patter was her heart beat. A heart beat that no longer existed in her grandfather.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said quietly, further reminding her.

"It's not like its your fault. I'm glad you got to know him before—" she suddenly stopped, knowing the words would make her cry.

He touched her back gently. "I am too."

"He loved you, Ron. And I'm so glad he did," she said quietly. It was too quiet. Like the sound had been turned down on her life. Like it was wrong to be loud. This was wrong. "He shouldn't have died," she said, now in her bedclothes.

Ron looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"He shouldn't have had to die." She turned from him to get into the bed.

"He was old, Hermione. All people get old."

She turned back to his still dressing frame. "Some people shouldn't have to get old!" Her voice was rising. She wanted this fight. She wanted the sound. Not the quiet.

He looked at her. "Hermione, stop acting like you're the only one who cares that he died. And the only one who has ever had someone taken from them. You think you're the only one that has had someone die before they were done knowing them?" His voice was rising too.

"Oh, don't you dare! Don't you dare use that against me! Don't you dare act like I didn't care about Fred! I cried too, Ron! I mourned too!"

"Don't you act like I didn't care that Grandpa died! I loved him too, Hermione, in case you didn't notice! He treated me like I was his own." There were tears gathering in his eyes. He wiped them angrily. "It's a fact of life. All people die, Hermione! All people. It doesn't matter how important they are or how much they were loved. They're going to die! I'm going to die. You're going to die. I might die before you. What are you going to do then?"

Hermione looked at him in horror. "I can't believe you said that! I—I—" The anger inside of her was ready to burst. She tried to keep it in.

"I'm going to get old too, Hermione," he said, pouring salt in the wound. "Do you think I should get old?"

"_Get out,_" she whispered vindictively.

"What?" he asked.

"GET OUT!" she shrieked. "You are _not_ sleeping in this bed!"

"Fine!" he yelled. "Fine." He grabbed a pillow and left the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

She sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands. Then she started to sob.

But Ron wasn't there to comfort her.

She curled up on her side and cried, listening to the sound of rain hitting the windows.

She'd never kicked Ron out of the bedroom before. They'd had big fights, sure. But none of them had ever lasted into the night.

----

She laid there for a couple hours, unable to sleep, unable to stop crying. She wanted Ron. She wanted Ron's arms around her, pressing her face into his chest. She couldn't sleep like this.

She crept out of the bedroom and found Ron laying with his face to the back of the couch, upon his pillow and under a small blanket that didn't cover his long legs.

"Ron?" she whispered, hoping he wasn't asleep.

He didn't turn over. "Thought of something else to say?"

She sobbed quietly. "I'm sorry," she managed to choke out.

He turned over at the sound of her tears. In the moonlight, she saw his expression change from one of anger to a look of remorse, of pain. He held out his arms. She crawled into them wordlessly, and he turned over so that she was pressed into the warmth of the back of the couch. He covered her with the insufficient blanket and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry too."

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered.

"I couldn't either."

She smiled sadly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

And with that assurance, she was able to sleep in his arms.

----

A/N: First, let me say that this chapter was a story long in my mind, longing to be written, and I loved writing it. I was immensely proud of this story. I am still proud of this story, despite the distress it caused.

Now, let me tell you a little story about a girl. She wrote a tale about a beloved grandfather being in the hospital and dying, keeping clearly in her mind how she thought she would feel should her grandfather be dying in the hospital. Her grandfather was very close to her and she didn't know how she would cope if he died.

The day after this tale was completed, this girl's grandfather went into the hospital and almost died from his gall bladder spilling poison into his blood stream. He went into septic shock and she was shaken. This girl felt like she, inadvertently, had cause her grandfather to be in this state, though she knew it wasn't rational. She knew this condition had been going on for a while. But still, she felt innately responsible. She thought he was going to die and it was her fault.

This girl's grandfather had his gall bladder taken out and he was doing well. She was relieved, along with the rest of her family.

Then, he had a massive heart attack. Just as in her story. He lived through the heart attack, but just barely. He had a 99% blockage on his main artery. They rushed him to the specialized heart hospital nearby, and he had a stent put in. This girl stayed at the hospital and did not go to school that day. She was sick. Sick with worry.

I am pleased to tell you that this girl's grandfather is fine and back to his regular programming. I am not pleased to tell you, as you probably have already figured out, that this girl is me.

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Please review about the story I have written, not the story of my life. I just wanted to share this with you readers, as it has changed me. I want to thank you loyal reviewers (you know who you are! :)) that have followed this story. I hope you enjoy the last couple of chapters.


	13. Distracting

Like A Memory It Falls

Chapter Twelve: Distracting

_My mind's distracted and confused…_

She woke up and went to the bathroom. She showered, she brushed her teeth, and then she prepared. It was her special week. God help her poor husband.

She went to work and went through her day. She came home and went to the bathroom again. There was no blood. She frowned slightly. _It can't be…_

She opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a box.

Hermione hadn't planned to take a pregnancy test today. She took out the test and peed on it.

She had always wanted the results right after she took a test while she was at school. She remembered asking the teachers if they'd finished grading as many times as she could. She never wanted _them_ as badly as _this_.

During the agonizing two minutes, she listened to the sound of rain pounding the ceiling of the house. Pounding an unavoidable beat of life moving on.

Then, the results came back:

Plus sign.

She cheered silently. Then she remembered something important:

Ron was leaving for Auror training tonight.

Shit.

----

"You alright?" Ron asked around a mouthful of chicken.

"Chew," she said. "I don't want you to choke and die."

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning his head to one side. "You're preoccupied."

"Nothing's wrong." _Except that I'm pregnant and I can't tell you._

"Are you sure?" he asked. Then he got a look of comprehension. "You wish I wasn't leaving tonight."

_You have no idea._ "Yes," she said, reaching across the table to hold his hand.

"Oh, Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "I'll be back in a few weeks."

"I know," she said, looking at him with sad eyes. "But that isn't going to stop me from missing you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to miss you too."

----

An hour later, Harry was standing in front of their fireplace. "Ready?"

Hermione looked at Ron. "Are you?" she asked him.

"Not just yet." He kissed her and lifted her off her feet, just like their first kiss six years ago.

When he pulled away, she heard Harry saying, "I feel like I've done this before. Oh right, I have."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Ron replied loudly, kissing Hermione soundly.

Then Ron and Harry Flooed away.

Hermione sat down in her chair. Rain was falling outside. The drops were slipping and sliding down on the window.

Suddenly, she couldn't wait for him to come back.

A/N: Only the epilogue left! Please, review.


	14. Epilogue

Like A Memory It Falls

Epilogue

Hermione placed her hand against the cold glass, wishing to feel the little droplets on her skin. The rain had sprinkled now and again, but nothing substantial enough to please her need for rain until today. In Ron's absence, she found she thrived on the showers more than ever. She often longed to run out and feel the tendrils of rain trickling down her arms, wetting her hair and joining the tears on her face. But she had more than her life to think of now.

Her emotions were becoming wild, varying much too quickly. She'd be giggling one moment and crying the next, missing the way Ron made her laugh and dried her tears. No doubt the rivulets of water would cause her to ache for Ron's arms around her, pulling her against his chest. Her heavy hair might remind her of his fingers tangling in the bushy locks as he pulled her face to his own. The beads of water on her face would have her remember the way he lightly peppered kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

With her hand still on the window of the front room, her imagination went into overdrive. Hermione felt his hands stroking her free arm, the right, warming the skin there. The soft warmth of arm coming around her right arm and entwining their fingers made her smile. He kissed her neck, his other arm coming around her left side. "Hey, hey, hey," Ron said, admonishing soothingly. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I miss you," she whispered though she knew him to be a dream. She dragged her eyes away from the window and down to her waist, seeing his definite arms. She blinked, but they didn't disappear. Her hand made a soft squelching noise as she pulled it away from the pane, leaving a print of heat. She reached up to feel his stubbly cheek, gasping and turning to face him. His luggage was placed by the hearth and his eyes were on her wet face.

"You don't have to miss me any more. I'm right here."

She pulled the collar of his shirt down to kiss him with fire, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're home," she mumbled against his lips.

He pulled his face from hers and she buried her face in his neck. "If I'm going to get a greeting like this, maybe I should go away more often," he said, chuckling at his own joke. She began to cry and he stroked her hair. "It was only a joke, babe," His hand slid down to her hips and he paused, pulling away to look her up and down. His eyes stopped on her stomach.

He had been gone ten weeks and she was starting to show. She had been trying to cover herself up in public. But at home all day, she hadn't seen a need and wore a tighter shirt, making her small bulge more pronounced. "Have you been—Is something—" he asked, his concerned eyes looking into hers and then comprehension came into his stare. "Are you—are we going to be parents?"

Hermione smiled, nodding as he lifted her off her feet and peppered her face with kisses.

"We're going to be parents!" He let her down very gently, as if she were suddenly fragile.

"I love you," she rasped, tears once again coming, immensely glad of his return. She turned back to the window, walking close enough to place her hand once again on the glass. He came behind her, one arm pulling her waist to him. She lifted her free hand to clasp the back of his neck, feeling very much like Frances Houseman in Johnny Castle's arms. His hand came around to cover hers on the window, enveloping her small fingers. They were one near the rain. Just as Hermione felt they should be.

----

A/N: It's over, guys. Thank you and good night.


End file.
